


Green-Eyed Monster

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-22
Updated: 2010-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco makes his lover a little jealous</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green-Eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

> This was my second-ever piece of HP fanfic, my first piece of smut, and the fault of everyone else on the HMS Prince and the Pauper. And JKR for withholding a certain vital bit of canon information, thus leaving me an opening. :-)

The heat in the tower room is oppressive, even in the dead of night; I tug at the neck of my robes, trying to cool off. Scotland's worst heat wave in decades had set in about a week ago, and there's no end in sight, except for a few frustratingly fluffy clouds on the horizon. Whatever stupid git thought black, floor-length wool robes would make good all-seasons attire for students should be dragged out into the street and hexed.&lt;/p&gt;

I check my watch; it's getting up on midnight. He's late again. This is getting to be a depressingly bad habit with him; I have every right to tell him off for making me wait up. Malfoys wait for no one. Then again, if I tell him off, he might refuse to see me again, and then I'd never see that beautiful backside of his. I wouldn't be here now if he weren't a brilliant lay, after all...

"Boo."

I leap nearly out of my socks and spin around, wand out. In a swirl of silvery fabric, he's standing behind me, smirking like he owns the goddamn world. "You and that fucking cloak," I mutter, pocketing my wand again. "The joke is getting old, in case you haven't noticed..."

"But it's so much fun to see you out of your element. Draco Malfoy, scared shitless." He laughs at his own joke and slings the invisibility cloak over the room's only chair. I notice that he's not wearing his robes, just a Muggle shirt and a deliciously tight pair of jeans worn thin in all the right places. He notices me looking him over and raises his eyebrows. "See something you like?"

"You," I announce to the room, "are a fucking tease."

He clucked his tongue. "That's the second time you've used that word in the past five minutes, Malfoy. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I kiss anybody the hell I want to." I close the gap between us, pressing myself against him and running my hands across his chest. We've both changed, physically, since the first in this series of strange liaisons, shedding the awkward bodies of children for the solid shapes of men. My hands come to rest behind his head, pulling him into a vicious kiss that left no doubts, hopefully, about my intentions. He clamped his hands down on my upper arms, moaning gently, and I move down to taste his neck. "And I thought...we agreed...to call each other...by our given names...?"

He gasps as I start to suck on the white skin just above his collarbone. "You can call me anything you like as long as you don't stop..."

I carry on for a bit, smiling against him. Who'd have thought, after so long trying to dominate this boy with insults, force and threats, I could have him eating out of my hand in such a thoroughly enjoyable manner? I finally pull away, leaving my hands tangled in his hair, and ask, "Do you want me?"

Green eyes roll towards the ceiling. "No, I've got a wand in my pocket."

"You mean this?" I slide my hand between our bodies and press the heel into his crotch. He moans and leans into the touch; I release the pressure. "Pretty big for a wand, but I'm sure it works fine."

"Who's the tease now?" he says huskily.

I smirk. "I'm just getting started."

We kiss again, and this time he's a more active participant. Our tongues slide across each other as his hands roam down my back, swooping lower with every pass. I roughly untuck his shirt and trace the familiar texture of his sides and lower back, eliciting another moan. "Aren't you a little over-dressed for this?" he asks, breaking away.

"I think we both are," I said, but pulled away just long enough to disrobe. There's a slight breeze coming through the window now, and though the air is still blood-warm, it feels wonderful on my bare skin. I'm stripped to the waist before I realize he hasn't removed any clothes; he just leans against a wall, watching me with a curious little half-smile. "What exactly is so amusing over there?"

He snickers. "You're standing there, and I'm here, and we're both randy as hell, and you're still taking the time to fold your clothes."

I look down at the neat stack of garments, then sniff at him. "I'm not a barbarian, darling. I have a few standards." I quickly finish and drape myself across him again, acutely aware that I'm still in control even though I'm the one who's naked and aroused.

He snickers, then folds his arms around. "You must, after all, you're shagging me." He starts kissing and licking at my neck and shoulder as I tease open the buttons on his jeans. When the fly comes open, finally, and I raise my eyebrows when I encounter nothing but smooth warm skin underneath.

"Forgot something this morning?"

"I got tired of trying to sneak back to the scene of the crime to look for my boxers--Hermione was getting suspicious Besides, isn't this more efficient?" He lets one hand come to rest on the small of my back, and with the other, begins trying to unbutton his shirt. His finger slip when I lock my hands onto his hips and thrust against his half-exposed erection. "Oh, God, Draco, I thought you wanted me naked..."

"I want you however I can get you..." I ease the jeans down and off, and notice he had the foresight not to wear socks, either. He steps out of his trainers while I help him with the buttons, although that would have probably gone faster if I hadn't used my teeth.

"Hey, watch that, I like this shirt...

Halfway down I stop, then double back to his nipples. A thin fuzz of chest hair tickles my face as I suck each one in turn, grazing the tips with my teeth. He gasps a few hoarse encouragements as he gropes to remove the shirt. I get the rest of the buttons and he shrugs it off, leaving it in a heap with the rest of his clothes. Slob. Not that I give him much choice, though...

Suddenly he lunges forward, knocking me to the floor, and lands on top of me. Oh, doesn't he think he's clever...I twine my legs around his and thrust against him again, grinding our sexes together in a thoroughly enjoyable way. He moans and gasps, and begins sucking on my neck again. "That's going to leave a hickey," I tell him, tracing the outlines of his shoulderblades and spine.

He grunts. "You gave me one. Besides, I like marking you."

I snort. "Gryffindors. You're all the same..."

That gets his attention; suddenly he pulls away, looking intrigued. "And exactly what makes you an expert on the mating habits of Gryffindor boys?"

I waggle my eyebrows. "Don't you know? I've had everyone in your dormitory at least once...even Longbottom wasn't bad once he lost his gag reflex..."

He groans, not in pleasure this time, and shakes his head. "Thank you, Draco, I definitely needed that mental image..." Suddenly those green eyes fix me again. "When you say everyone, you mean, even..."

"Even your darling best mate, yes." I smirk. "You know he's got a birthmark shaped like Austria on the left thigh?"

"No," he says point-blank. "I've never looked at him like that."

"Perhaps you should, he's fantastic." Except that seems to be the wrong thing to say, because he squirms and pulls away, into a crouch. I sigh and sit up. "What've I said wrong now?"

"You're such a slut, Draco," he says, suddenly annoyed. "Is there anyone in our year you haven't had?"

I start counting on my fingers. "Granger, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Entwhistle, Bones, Macmillan--"

"All right, all right, I get the picture..." He sits back, staring off into space. "I don't know why I even come up here anymore."

"Because I'm a brilliant lay?" I hazard.

He snorts. "Brilliant, right. Just when things start to get interesting you start a monologue on what a wonderful lover my best friend is."

That hurt, annoyed tone of voice sets off alarms in my head; I climb to my knees and lean forward. "I think someone's jealous..."

"I am not."

"Oh, yes, you are...I should've known..." I reach out and caress the back of his ear, noting with hope that he doesn't pull away. "You're jealous because you don't want to share."

"Shouldn't I be?" he says sullenly.

I sigh and drop my hand. "Look, I may be promiscuous, but I'm not a whore. I only ever have one lover at a time; quite apart from fidelity, it makes it easier to lay the blame for the occasional strange rash." Ah, success; I've gotten a smile out of him. "So believe me when I tell you that you're not sharing with anyone right now."

He still raises an eyebrow and says acidly, "Perhaps I should confirm this with Mr. Fantastic, then."

"You could," I say, pretending to consider it, "but then you'd have to call him up here, and you wouldn't want him to see you...like this?" I grab him by the knees and pull, dragging him forward so that my flagging erection is pressed firmly against his opening. He gasps, but he smiles again.

"Of course not...although...it isn't exactly an uncomfortable position..." He arches his back suddenly, and I nearly impale him at once.

"Now who's the slut?" I whisper, stroking him to bring him back to full hardness. He bucks into my hand, so that his cheeks grind against my length. "Keep that up and I'm going to come right now."

"P-p-p-perish the thooooouuuuhhn, don't stop..."

Groping behind me, I locate my wand. "Open up, there's a good boy..." I tell him.

"Who're you calling a 'boy?'" Still, he obeys, spreading his knees wide, offering himself to me. I'm still amazed, sometimes, at how far we have come, from utter loathing to this absolute trust. Or as nearly absolute as you could get with us being who we are.

I press the tip of my wand into my cupped palm and whisper, _"Lubricus."_ Clear fluid, already blood-warm, fills my hand, and I quickly slick myself before pressing one finger into him. He groans and rocks backwards, gasping encouragements. I thrust a few times, winding him up, before adding a second finger and beginning to stretch. One fingertip grazes his prostate and he nearly jumps into the air.

"Now, please, now..."

"Are you sure?" I quickly insert a third finger, fully aware that this is too hasty. Granger will really be suspicious if one of her precious boys can't sit down tomorrow morning.

"Yes, god damn it, now..."

I withdraw my fingers and take him in hand again; it's almost a habit, stemming from that first time, when I hadn't prepared him and he was tight enough to hurt us both. I had stroked him then, as I stroke him now, and shushed him until he relaxed and the pain subsided. His face is contorted with need now, but he's smiling slightly, as if remembering the same thing. This time, however, there's little pain, just slippery heat as I start to thrust into him.

If Filch were to come by now, I think wildly, and put his ear to the door, he'd think someone was being murdered. I've never been vocal during sex, but he moans and gasps enough for three. His knees lock around my waist and he arches his body, matching my rhythm, driving me deeper. One of his hands closes over mine in a grip like iron; the other lays flat against my shoulder, holding me up even when I'm weak-kneed from pleasure. This is how sex should always be, no pretenses of romance or true love or an endless future; just this boy, flat on his back, bathed in moonlight so his hair stands out stark against his face, green eyes dark with pure lust, completely surrounding me. Just the two of us, enjoying each other, not worrying about families or Voldemort or the end of the world. That's where you find real happiness.

Our pace is furious now, constant pounding, and at every stroke he cries out like it's the first time. I desperately suck air through clenched teeth, falling back that old pattern of thought as I tell myself, _I'm not going to come, not yet, not before he does. I'm Draco fucking Malfoy, I'm a superior life-form, I'm not going to come before him. I will not come before god-damn-fucking-oohhhhhh too late.. _"Uhhhhhh..."

I can't stop it, stop trying; it feels like my soul is being shot out the end of my penis. He arches backwards once more, twice, then explodes himself, screaming my name to the ceiling. Then the wave rolls back, and the moment is over, and I collapse on top of him, heedless of the mess. It's taking enough concentration just to slow my breathing and stay conscious.

Did I say he was a brilliant lay? I meant fucking incredible.

After a while he finds his wand (where he had he stashed in, in those jeans?) and cleans us both up. I slide off him and rest my head on his shoulder, wondering if I could sleep here and still have time to shower before breakfast. It's warm enough, and he makes such an excellent pillow...

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"How honest were you about my roommates?"

I look up at him and smirk. "I was lying through my teeth, darling. There's only two Gryffindor boys I've been with, or care to be."

"Me, and...?"

"How do you think I know about the birthmark?"

"Oh, god, Draco..."

I shrug sleepily. "What can I say? I have a weakness for green eyes...and you're the only two Gryffindors in our year that have them..."

"Oh, so that's all I am to you, a pair of eyes and an arsehole?" He sounds put out, but he's petting my hair while he says it. Fucking possessive Gryffindors...

"Quit trying to finagle a compliment out of me, Greeneyes, or I'll tell you more about that birthmark..."

"Will you quit bringing it up already?"

"What, are you jealous?"

He sighs. "A little bit. And it's also just weird...I mean, we're like brothers..."

"And there's no history of incest in your family?"

"Draco!"

I chuckle and snuggle closer, and after a moment of huffy silence, he keeps petting my hair.

"Oughtn't we be getting back to our dormitories?" he asks as I'm on the edge of sleep.

"Why? I'm comfortable right here..."

"Someone might miss us...or catch us leaving..."

"We've got the cloak...it's not like Potter's going to miss it..."

He laughs. "True, that...he and Hermione were rather occupied when I left..."

That wakes me up. "Oh...fucking god! I'm sorry about the birthmark, all right?"

"I mean with homework, you dingbat...lay down..." He pulls me back to him, still snickering. "Besides, I asked his permission to borrow it, he thinks I'm seeing Lisa Turpin."

"That's not a compliment, you know. She's a complete skank. Gave Crabbe some kind of oozing warty things where he didn't want to show anyone..."

"Well, if I said I was meeting you, he'd throw a wobbly."

"Hmmm." He really does make an excellent pillow. "If you said you were seeing me, I bet you a Galleon he'd insist there was a curse involved. As if you'd have to be cursed to succumb to my natural charm...quit laughing!" Although I'm not sure he can; he's nearly doubled over, and there's tears leaking down his face. "Damn it, Weasley, quit laughing at me!"

"What...happened...to...given names?" he gasps.

I pull myself on top of him and straddle him, seizing a double fistful of scarlet hair. "Fine: Quit laughing at me, Ron, or you'll have to be punished."

He slides his hands up my thighs, still smiling. "Ha, ha, ha."


End file.
